Prince Paul. No; I think it must be that I have to listen sometimes.
Count R. Still, anything is better than being kept in a sort of prison, like he was—never allowed to go out into the world.
Prince Paul. My dear Count, for romantic young people like he is, the world always looks best at a distance; and a prison where one's allowed to order one's own dinner is not at all a bad place. (Enter the Czarevitch. The courtiers rise.) Ah! good afternoon, Prince. Your Highness is looking a little pale to-day.
Czare. (slowly, after a pause). I want change of air.
Prince Paul (smiling). A most revolutionary sentiment! Your Imperial father would highly disapprove of any reforms with the thermometer in Russia.
Czare. (bitterly). My Imperial father had kept me for six months in this dungeon of a palace. This morning he has me suddenly woke up to see some wretched Nihilists hung; it sickened me, the bloody butchery, though it was a noble thing to see how well these men can die.
Prince Paul. When you are as old as I am, Prince, you will understand that there are few things easier than to live badly and to die well.
Czare. Easy to die well! A lesson experience cannot have taught you, whatever you may know of a bad life.
Prince Paul (shrugging his shoulders). Experience, the name men give to their mistakes. I never commit any.
Czare. (bitterly). No; crimes are more in your line.